Being in the world

This week, we've had some really nice encounters with the real world. You know, that place that exists outside of the classroom.

We joined several other home educators at the beach on Monday, where dear daughter got chest deep in the North Sea ... in T-shirt and cargo pants (well, early that morning it hadn't looked like the weather would be good enough for more than paddling!). The drenching was worth it, and thankfully we could pull together enough spare clothes to drive home relatively dry. It's lovely to watch how these young people, aged from toddler to teenager, interact with and look out for each other.

Today, we were in a different kind of real world. Some time ago, we signed up to volunteer at a local museum and we've been for a few visits over the last month or so in order to establish where we'd most like to work. We've seen large object stores, photographic archives, exhibits, repair sheds. Literally behind the scenes at the museum. Typically pre-teen, dd chose not to be a costumed interpreter. But we both took to the idea of oral history, myself because I like doing interviews; dd because she wants to show off her typing speeds when transcribing. (Her typing IS scarily good - over 60 wpm, mainly through exposure to role playing computer games). So, this afternoon was our training session for oral history. We heard an amazing recording of an elderly lady remembering a moment in her childhood when she sneaked out in her nightdress to join the celebrations after the relief of Mafeking. Just magical stuff, to sit in a present day room and to hear that voice from the recent past, talking about the more distant past. Anyone who believes technology has no soul would have to think again after hearing that recording.

The age range of the course participants was from 12 to 83, and part of our training was to interview one another. What fascinated and slightly surprised me was just how good and sensitive an interviewer my daughter can be. I heard her interview someone about her first job during the 1960s. DD asked intelligent questions, allowed space for 'thinking pauses' (apparently, many adults jump in too quickly and miss important information), and she managed to move things forward without interrupting the speaker. She was also able to envisage herself in the role of an interviewee. When asked what she'd talk about when she's an older person, she reckoned, "I'd talk about my laptop, because they'll be obsolete by then". I was so proud to be her mum and realized how often (no matter how well I think that I know her talents, interests and personality) I can still understimate her.

I'm slowly learning that the less I actively demand of my daughter, the more that I can expect her to willingly give.